If the anatomy of a human brain is unremarkable, if its physiology is operating within “normal” limits, if it is awake, not under the influence of intoxicants (or excessive stimulants) of any kind, functioning under “normal” conditions, and if it displays a particular electrochemical balance, we would say that the human in question is experiencing “ordinary” consciousness. I put the words ordinary and normal in quotation marks because the words themselves are so ambiguous and the definitions of them so open to individual interpretation.
Broadly speaking, when we say a human brain is operating “normally”, it is operating in such a way as to allow a human to perceive enough of reality to avoid dangerous stimuli, navigate their way through spacetime, recognize and interact with others, and generally interpret the world in a way that seems to be consistent with the human definition of reality. This is the “window” through which a human perceives the physical and social world, the window through which we experience our mediated contact with the free-standing reality. It is this somewhat precarious (and exceedingly complex) physiological and electrochemical state that creates what humans call “ordinary” experience or “ordinary” consciousness. Human civilization has been created by humans who were in some approximation of this state. It is what most humans would consider an everyday experience. (See the chapter entitled Some (Brief) Comments On the Brain’s Anatomy and Physiology and the chapter entitled The Emergence and Nature of Human Consciousness, Part One: Toward a Definition of Consciousness).
Expanding on this, it may be said that “ordinary” consciousness contributes to the sense that life as one is living it is “normal”, the way “regular” or “ordinary” people live it. This sense of normality, by the way, is one of the consequences of having assimilated a particular culture. A person might think, if they were to put it into words, “I am calm, my mind is essentially unexcited, relatively clear, and I am not in overt physical distress. The life I am surrounded by is utterly mundane, completely ordinary in every way. This is what it’s like to be normal.” Ordinary consciousness, therefore, is not only one of the foundations of human social life and basic human interaction. The sense of normality it provides is also one of the foundations of human personal identity.
This sense of the ordinary also makes many people less conducive to any drastic changes in the routine way of life they experience—it wouldn’t be normal to change things. The introduction of rapid change or extreme novelty threatens the internal equilibrium of a great many people. Further, it can be argued that this sense that one’s own culture is the definition of normal can easily morph into belief in the superiority of one’s culture, and active hostility toward foreign ways of life, which are despised and shunned because they are “abnormal” or “perverse”.
Ordinary consciousness tends to gravitate between focusing on the external world of task completion, social interaction, and perception of surroundings, and the internal world of random mental events, internal narratives, fantasies (either positive or negative) and reveries. It is probable that most people are not focusing 100% of their attention on whatever task is at hand, except in the most pressing circumstances, e.g., life and death situations that demand undivided attention, or in situations in which they are communicating with large numbers of other people. It is this constant sliding back and forth between inside and outside and the continual mixing of elements from the two that seems to constitute the ordinary internal reality that most people experience. What people call ordinary consciousness is, for most humans, the baseline against which exceptional or extraordinary states of mind may be measured.
In previous chapters we have discussed the nature of consciousness itself, but it would be useful to remind ourselves of how ordinary levels of attentiveness and awareness are maintained:
The exact neuronal connections that modulate alertness, wakefulness, and normal sleep and drowsiness are not well defined. A distinct group of neurons, the reticular formation, is located in the periventricular areas of the midbrain, pons, and medulla. [Note from the NIH: the periventricular area is the area around the ventricles where nerve fibers carry messages from the brain to the body's muscles.] In addition to modulating various interconnecting pathways within the brainstem, this group of neurons relates to the levels of alertness and wakefulness. It is postulated that a diffuse group of neuronal connections emanates from this reticular formation, projecting up the midbrain into the thalamic structures and then on to the cortex. This system is referred to as the ascending reticular activating system (ARAS). The ARAS receives input from all sensory systems, and efferent connections are extensive. It is thought that this system is responsible for modulating alertness and sleep. As such, any interruption of this system could result in alteration in the level of consciousness (or in abnormalities in the sleep cycle).1
The brain therefore acts to keep a human in equilibrium, keeping the conscious mind sufficiently focused on the outer world that the human in question can function within normal limits.
So of what does a mind in an “ordinary” state go through in a day? A prominent psychologist, the late Robert E. Ornstein (from whom I borrowed the title of this chapter), gave his answer in The Psychology of Consciousness. He stated that the ordinary stream of consciousness was marked by “a mixture of thoughts, fantasies, ideas, and sensations of the external world.” A human encounters objects and other humans (typically), the latter of which have distinctive appearances, voices, and personalities. Humans move through three-dimensional spacetime, regularly manipulating objects, and turning their attention to tasks or communicating with others. He also emphasized that humans seem to make a common mistake: they see their own personal consciousness as “objective reality”.2
Ornstein emphasizes the following aspects of ordinary consciousness:
1. The senses and the brain reduce the amount of information we receive and (as we have seen) detect only a part of the energies and chemical compounds around us.
2. Ordinary consciousness is
heavily interactive and constructive. Humans receive sensory
input and unconsciously organize it. This process is called categorization.
These categories tend to be limited and less complex than the input the senses
are receiving. If the categories are applied to other humans, all the actions of
these humans tend to be seen through the lens of these categories.
3. Ordinary consciousness is shifting and fluid, and we tend to focus on any physical need we happen to have at a given moment. It is affected by cultural influences, personal loyalties, family background, personal history, education, particular interests, and many other factors. It can be confined to a narrow area of interest or narrow regions of the world. It can be shaped by the degree to which an individual employs verbal modes of thought as opposed to image-driven modes.
4. Our consciousness is not a simple passive recorder of external stimuli but is a deeply selective and evolved entity aimed primarily at biological survival.
5. Our consciousness grows and develops as our knowledge of the world expands. From the chaotic and unstructured consciousness of infancy, we gradually acquire familiarity with the objects and processes around us, allowing us to form a coherent picture of the reality around us and to gain survival skills.
There are some people, often artists of various kinds, who see ordinary consciousness as a barrier to unconventional thought. The writer Virginia Wolff put it this way:
Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day. The mind receives a myriad impressions – trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms; as they fall, as they shape themselves into the life of Monday or Tuesday, the accent falls differently from of old; the moment of importance came not here but there; so that, if a writer were a free man and not a slave, if he could write what he chose, not what he must, if he could base his work upon his own feeling and not upon convention, there would be no plot, no comedy, no tragedy, no love interest or catastrophe in the accepted style, and perhaps not a single button sewn on as the Bond Street tailors would have it. Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.4
Brain Sludge
The curious phrase brain sludge is my way of rephrasing the important fact that Virginia Wolff so elegantly expressed above: much of what our ordinary, everyday consciousness feeds us is a random hodge-podge of fleeting blurry images, spontaneous inner “sounds” (either voices, music, or nature sounds), temporary bursts of emotion, wordless impulses, irrelevant, surprising, painful, or long-lost memories, imaginary scenarios (sometimes violent or erotic), snippets of verbal thought, and strange mixtures of all of these phenomena. This sludge comprises the background of our ordinary waking life. Too many of us consider the contents of this sludgy river to be important, especially if we have had strange or disturbing thoughts. Almost none of them are. It is the conscious brain’s static. When we concentrate on some matter at hand, this sludge is pushed off to the side, so to speak, but it always has the potential to interfere with more necessary tasks. It can interrupt our reading, invade our mealtimes, interfere with our rest, and distract us from our work (which, admittedly, is not always a bad thing). The river of brain sludge has been with us our entire lives. It is the most prominent feature of our consciousness in some ways. So when we consider William James’s formulation “the stream of thought”, we need to remember that much, or even most of that stream, is clogged with sludge.
In the broadest sense, the whole of our past experiences is present at any given moment, but particular aspects of that experience take precedence. And in that present moment in our “ordinary” consciousness, there are more realities unfolding and expressing themselves than we are capable of knowing or understanding. When we realize this, we realize there is nothing “ordinary” about our consciousness at all.
2. Ornstein, Robert. The Psychology of
Consciousness. New York: Penguin Books, 1984, p. 32.
3. Ornstein, pp. 32-62
4.
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10733324-examine-for-a-moment-an-ordinary-mind-on-an-ordinary













